


krazy

by karasunovolleygays



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2020 [43]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Are Dumb, Kissing Booths, M/M, Poor judgment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunovolleygays/pseuds/karasunovolleygays
Summary: Oikawa is pleased with his haul at the team's fundraising kissing booth — that is, until he finds out Ushijima is doing better.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: Valentine's Kisses 2020 [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589239
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	krazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jercydee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jercydee/gifts).



> This was written for my 2020 Valentine's Kisses: 45. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

The backs of Oikawa’s legs bump into the desk and then a bed post as they stagger into the dorm room, hands busy grasping for balance every time an obstacle crops up in his way. Ushijima isn’t faring much better.

Oikawa is an idiot. Their current predicament is entirely his fault. How did he end up with his lips literally latched onto his mortal frenemy’s?

About that . . .

***

Arms crossed, Oikawa pouts when the assignments for their college volleyball team’s kissing booth fundraiser are handed out. Somehow, he had been given three shifts, and Ushijima hadn’t received any at all.

“This isn’t fair!” he whines in the changing room after their captain Kyoudai had doled out the paper schedules. “Why am I the only one with three?”

Kyoudai rolls up the remaining papers and swats Oikawa in the back of the head. “First of all, you volunteered to do the booth. Second of all, you said — and I quote — ‘I’ll do anything to help the team!’ Since chicks like you for some damn reason, tag. You’re it.”

Across the room, Ushijima chortles into his fist, feigning a half-assed cough. Oikawa barely quells the urge to stomp across the room and make Ushijima watch as he crosses out his own name twice and pencils in Ushijima in his stead.

But it won’t change anything, he marks bitterly. Kyoudai would only change it back and probably make his life miserable for his trouble. 

So Oikawa Tooru will be spending an hour each day of his three day weekend kissing randos for money. Joy.

The first day rolls around, and Oikawa is loath to admit that it’s like riding a bike to him. Say charming words, make girls blush, take girls’ money, give them a peck on the lips. Save for the money part, he’s done stuff like this since he was fifteen. The Shoujo King of Seijou, some (coughIwa-chancough) had called him when they thought he couldn’t hear. 

When his relief arrives, Oikawa counts up his haul and finds his hour had been very productive. Eleven thousand yen is a lot of money to make in one hour.

“Holy shit, you pulled in all that?” Kyoudai remarks as he counts it up to make sure Oikawa isn’t fluffing his numbers. “Did you even stop to breathe?”

Oikawa smirks and shrugs. “What can I say? I’m magnetic.”

“Yeah, great. Now beat it if you hate it so much.” The moment he finishes the toothless threat, Kyoudai turns to face the university quad with a beatific smile on his face that makes his usual self look like an evil twin.

The second day is an even better draw. According to one of the team managers, Hana, word has raced around like lightning that the dreamy setter on the volleyball team is offering kisses and flirting for two hundred yen. Half of his visitors are repeats from the previous day. Some even come back during the same session for more.

This time, his haul tallies up to a staggering ¥21800: almost double his previous takings. 

His relief is their libero this time, a short but good looking guy named Higasa. However, Higasa is completely unshocked by Oikawa’s success. “See, this is why you got stuck doing it three times. Your face is magic or something.”

Less put out than he had originally assumed he would be, Oikawa sashays back to the dorms to spend the rest of the night with a well-earned _Twilight Zone_ marathon, whistling an aimless tune on the way.

On the final day, Oikawa proceeds to the kissing booth with something close to a skip in his step. He’s already raised more by himself than the rest of the team combined, and today, he can put the icing on top with another massive haul. 

When he gets within eyeshot of the booth, however, he skids to an immediate stop.

Standing at the counter is Ushijima, endowing a blushing tall girl in glasses with a soft kiss. “What the hell?” Oikawa grumbles, his nose wrinkling as he pouts.

Stomping over to the booth, Oikawa crosses his arms and glares at Ushijima until his guest leaves. “Since when did you _deign_ to participate in stuff like this?”

Ushijima shrugs. “I volunteered in the first place, but Kyoudai-san said it wasn’t necessary. I’m filling in for Hoda. He has a cold.”

“He has a cold,” Oikawa parrots in a nasally tone. “Well, I suppose a few people haven’t met you personally and know how icky your personality is, so I guess it isn’t an entire loss.”

Raising a brow, Ushijima asks, “What?”

“Never mind!” Oikawa jabs a finger at the strongbox holding the takings. “Now count all four hundred of your yen and go away.”

Ushijima does exactly that, and Oikawa almost chokes on his own air when he announces, “Twelve-thousand two hundred.”

“Damn it!” Closing his eyes, Oikawa counts to ten under his breath to keep from breaking his toe on the side of the booth with a swift kick. Under his breath, he chants, “Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Gotta be sweet and nice.”

Few people are milling around on the quad, as it’s Sunday, and Oikawa wonders how he’s going to top Ushijima’s astronomical earnings. An idea springs into his mind. It’s grotesque, but he’s willing to bite that bullet.

As Ushijima walks away, Oikawa leans on his palm and calls, “Yoo hoo, Ushiwaka-chan.” He sees a muscle convulse in Ushijima’s neck and he smirks. “Where are you hurrying off to? Are you afraid to put your product up for expert scrutiny?”

Ushijima turns and blinks at him for a long minute before he asks, “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

“Of course not.” Oikawa steeples his fingers and grins. “I’m daring you to show me what you got.”

“Fine.” Ushijima approaches the counter and slaps two hundred-yen notes on the counter. 

Oikawa holds up a finger before reaching for his lip balm. “Just a moment, Ushiwaka-chan. I need to freshen up.” He pops off the lid and applies a generous portion to his lips. Maybe a king size chapstick barrier will ward off the Ushijima cooties.

He leans forward and so does Ushijima. Their mouths touch, something Oikawa never in his wildest dreams could have imagined, and he lets practice take over. 

It takes a couple of seconds before he realizes something is terribly wrong.

When Oikawa tries to pull away, a sensation like poison bees buzzes in his lips. Eyes flying wide in alarm, he whimpers when he sees Ushijima fighting a similar battle. With a glance at the tube in his hand, he screams into Ushijima’s mouth when he sees that it’s super glue — the kind that dries in about the time it takes for Ushijima to bait him into this mess.

Oikawa grabs his phone and keys in a text. _This is your fault!_

Pulling out his own phone and replies. _How could this possibly be my fault?_

 _I don’t know, but it is!_ Oikawa fires back. With a sigh, he adds, _We need to get out of here before anybody sees this and gets the wrong idea._

_Agreed._

Oikawa whines as loudly as possible when Ushijima hauls him over the counter and picks him up by the rear. Scowling to the best of his ability, Oikawa clenches his legs in a vice-like grip around Ushijima’s waist, cackling at his pained yelp.

Ushijima glowers at him before he takes off at a brisk jog. The jostling is painful, but Oikawa is willing to endure every bit of it when he notices that a wave of people have left the dining hall and are beginning to catch a glimpse of their predicament.

Cat calls, wolf whistles, and giggles follow them through the wide open grass. Ushijima’s pace picks up in response.

They finally make it to the dormitory through the back door, heading for Ushijima’s room because it’s the closest. Their hands bicker over the key to unlock it, but finally they make it inside, and Oikawa can stand on his own two feet again.

Or not. 

His heel catches on Ushijima’s volleyball bag near the door (the undomesticated brute) and nearly reels over. He would have if not for Ushijima’s quick reflexes.

Resuming their awkward trek, Oikawa backs into a desk, throwing him off balance enough to take them both down. Ushijima grasps him tight as they drop onto his bed with a bounce.

Oikawa flails his limbs in protest, and his mood doesn’t improve when Ushijima straddles his lap to stop the painful tugging on their already abused lips. Holding his phone over his head, Oikawa googles the last damn thing he ever thought he would have to: how to remove super glue from lips.

He brandishes the results, showing Ushijima the proscribed treatment. Putting their lips into a bowl of hot water is out, unless they both want to drown. Instead, he opens a new tab and searches for an image of a shower head.

Ushijima attempts to nod, which brings an unholy pain to his mouth, and Oikawa slaps his thigh in protest. This is their only chance to avoid the embarrassment of ending up in the campus clinic with their faces glued together. 

With resolve forged in the heat of potential humiliation, Oikawa picks up Ushijima this time and darts to the tiny shower stall in the far end of the room. He drops his phone on the sink counter, as does Ushijima, and the two of them climb in as soon as the water starts to steam.

Oikawa closes his eyes to the hot stream, and in a couple of minutes, the pull of their skin starts to abate. They both reel against the stall wall when their lips finally unglue, and Ushijima turns the shower off with an angry slap.

His stormy gaze turns on Oikawa, who tries to smile but only exacerbates the damage to his lips. “Uh, sorry?”

“Why are you like this?” Ushijima flees the shower and starts shedding his soggy garments. “You just can’t handle competition, can you? Why are you such a child?”

“It was an accident!” Oikawa cries, taken aback by Ushijima’s anger — no matter how justified it may be. “How was I supposed to know there would be super glue right where I usually put my chapstick?”

Ushijima crosses his arms over his bare chest, which glistens with droplets of water streaming down from his soggy hair, and Oikawa is not happy to notice this. “The glue was to repair one of the letters on the sign. It fell off twice yesterday, so I fixed it.”

Oikawa deflates when he realizes that Ushijima is absolutely correct: this is his fault. If he weren’t so competitive with his own teammate to the point where he can’t stand Ushijima out-earning him —

“The money,” Oikawa gasps.

He and Ushijima look at each other sharply before barreling out the door: one damp ikemen and one mostly naked one. 

With a snort, Oikawa doesn’t stop because it’s officially not the most ridiculous thing that’s happened to him that day. This is something he can handle.


End file.
